


Crimson Soil

by orphan_account



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Assassin's Creed III, Death, F/M, Rescue, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:39:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kanien'kehá:ka were not the only ones to suffer at the hands of Colonists. Connor learns the aftermath of their greed yet again, trying to save this one woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did do some research in history for this, however it's not completely historically accurate.  
> I am not a native speaker, so any corrections are always welcome!  
> Contains a spoiler for ACIII.

Ratonhnhaké:ton looked down on the mutilated bodies. This was not human. He felt like he walked on blood soaked earth as he walked through the trees. It was hot, hotter than the summers he was used to, and it was eerily quiet. Quiet, as if even the birds and the trees were holding their breath, not daring to break the silence that honored the souls that had stained the earth with their blood here.

Ratonhnhaké:ton kept walking until he stood amidst the deserted and half destroyed huts. The Beckford estate wasn't the only one that had suffered under the slaves' uprising. Some huts were just bashed and some were gone completely; only a trampled down square of hard earth gave away that not too long ago someone had slept here. From what Ratonhnhaké:ton understood from what the Captain back on the ship had told him, the uprising had nearly caused the plantation to go up in flames, bringing down slaves and masters alike. He stepped over what felt like the fiftieth dead body. As easy as it would have been, he dared not look away from the marred corpses and the pain and suffering they had had to endure. This body's back looked like a battlefield. Ratonhnhaké:ton knew the scars well, he'd seen them on almost every body he had come across so far. It was scourged skin. Was this a working slave or a maroon? He'd seen a lot of Taíno corpses as well. No one would tell this man's story, he thought bitterly. No one knew if he had a woman, or children; whether he died free or fighting for his freedom.

A whimper to his right made him turn around. "Hello?" Ratonhnhaké:ton called into the heat. Whoever had made the sound kept quiet. He walked around another hut and there, squatting in the grass, was a naked young woman cradling something to her chest. Before he could open his mouth a stench hit him. It smelled so strong and disgusting, he almost doubled over and threw up. But, clenching his right hand into a fist, he swallowed and regained his composure. "Hello. Who are you?" he asked as gently as possible. The woman looked up at him and he was surprised to stare into a pair of eyes that looked old enough to have seen the world's beginning and end. Her eyes went from his face to the tomahawk in his hand, but she didn't seem scared. She just hunched over and squeezed her eyes shut, fiercely protecting whatever it was she held to her chest so tightly. Ratonhnhaké:ton took the tomahawk into his other hand and laid it as far away from him as the length of his arm allowed him to. Then he squatted down just a few feet next to her.

"I can help you" he tried again. She looked up. After a moment's hesitation she slowly spoke in a shy voice. "I just had to find my brother, Master. I'm just making sure he is okay and I'll be back to work. The Missus mustn't look for me no more." Ratonhnhaké:ton swallowed. "I seem to have forgotten your name" he said, voice trembling. "Oney" she replied looking at him with eyes wide open, as if surprised he cared to ask for it. "Oney" he repeated. "My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton, I am not your Master. You are free now, Oney. Do you understand?" She just looked at him and when she didn't reply he pointed at the bundle in her arms. "What do you have there?" A look of fear ghosted over her features and she slowly pulled the bundle open. It was clear she didn't want him to see what it was, but she also didn't dare to disobey, even though he hadn't given an order. When she pulled the last piece of brown cloth away, Ratonhnhaké:ton again had to resist the urge to turn away as the contents of his stomach threatened to bubble up. He swallowed hard.

It was the corpse of a little baby boy. His arms and legs were sickeningly thin, but his stomach was all blown up. He must have been dead for at least three days; some flys crawled over his face and the tips of his fingers and soles of his feet were open and full of bugs.

Ratonhnhaké:ton almost faltered and cried. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried. Achilles' death had left him so hollow inside, he wasn't even able to shed tears. But now he felt like dropping on his knees in front of the little boy and crying for him. He looked up again at Oney. Carefully he extended his arm and took the end of the cloth to cover the body with it. "Come on" he said gently, tugging at her arm to make her stand up. "We should make him a grave. Would you like to give him a proper burial?" Oney looked at the bundle in her arms as if realizing, for the first time now, that her brother was gone. She nodded vaguely.

They walked a few steps into the trees, away from the path and the little assembly of huts. Ratonhnhaké:ton looked around. There were no other bodies lying on the ground, it seemed peaceful. A little spot, where they could pretend that the endless cruelty on the island was just a bad dream. With his tomahawk Ratonhnhaké:ton loosened the earth and then dug a little hole with his bare hands. The young woman got down on her knees, the bundle still cradled against her chest. She sat there for a minute, not moving. Her mouth opened and closed as if she was speaking to the little boy, but she didn't make a sound. Ratonhnhaké:ton waited silently. When she carefully laid him down and started covering him with the dry earth, he bent down to help her, but she pushed his hands away. So he stood again and waited patiently for her to finish. When she was done he murmured some words in his own language, before they stepped back out onto the pathway.

"My men are looking for other survivors. People looking for a new start. Would you like to come with me to the ship to see if you can find someone you… you know from around here?" he asked uncertainly. He doubted that she still had anyone to turn to, but he felt that if he left her here she would just sink to the ground and never move on. She nodded and he pointed towards the shore. "This way."

They walked through the heavy heat and Ratonhnhaké:ton's throat tightened a bit more with every body they walked past. He wanted to ask her about any family, her life, anything, but he wondered if all she had to tell was a tale of suffering. Suddenly she wasn't beside him anymore and he turned around to find her sitting on the ground clutching the dried out grass. "What is it?" he asked alarmed. She just shook her head. He went over and gently took her elbow to pull her up, but she didn't move. "I can't walk, Master" she said, her voice flat. "I am not your master, Oney. You are a free woman now" he repeated, but doubted she registered what his words meant, so he gently scooped her up into his arms and resumed their march towards the ship.

When they reached the ship Ratonhnhaké:ton could see that his men had returned as well. With them were a group of Negro men and even a few women. When they saw him approach with the young woman in his arms two of the Negro men jogged towards him shouting. They seemed angry. Ratonhnhaké:ton set Oney down and took two steps back, raising his hands. "She couldn't walk" he explained carefully. The men looked at him doubtfully and one of them squatted down beside her and started talking rapidly in a language he didn't understand. Two of the Negro women had approached them now as well. One of them gently pushed the man away and stroked Oney's hair, talking to her more gently.

Then she faced him. "It would not make her happy to stay here." Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded. "My men and I will return to Boston when we're done here. We will take anyone with us who would like to start a new life there."

Ratonhnhaké:ton entered his cabin. Oney was the only one who stayed on the ship, no one else had joined them so far for the journey back to America, and he'd offered her his cabin. He brought water and white bread and put it on the table by the window. If he hadn't been able to hear the soft wheezing of air from the woman he would have thought her dead. She lay very still on the bed he put her on to rest when he brought her in three hours earlier and hadn't moved since. Her chest rose but very little with every breath. "Can you walk yet?" he asked timidly. She turned her head to look at him and slowly shook it. She looked tired and sick, even more so than when he'd found her. It was as if she was slowly diminishing and were gone if he looked away for a second. So he didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning he again brought bread and water to the bed, handing both to her and stepping away again to give her space. Her eyes were hard and hollow and her skin seemed too tight over her bones, even though she wasn’t malnourished. She seemed feverish all in all, but her skin didn’t burn up. It tore at Ratonhnhaké:ton that there wasn’t really anything he could do. Her sickness was not physical, he could not help her the way he tended to the sick. And even though she seemed to be aware of it as well, she didn’t seem frightened. 

Again she hardly even looked at the bread, so he drew up a chair and started talking, in an attempt to make her feel more at ease, even though he wasn’t sure if ease was what she missed. “We will sail north to Boston in two day’s time. It’s a good city, even though it’s cold. Coming from here everything will feel cold to you at first, but you’ll get used to even the harshest winters. I’ve spent a lot of my time in Boston as well, I could help you find good work.” She didn’t reply, but nibbled on the white bread, slowly, as if she couldn’t afford to swallow it. He went on. “If you don’t want to live in the city I can take you with me to Kanatahséton, the village of my people. I was born there myself. You might find a place there yourself. Work. A family” he stopped, unsure if this was what she wanted to hear and he looked at her. She looked back at him intently, curious even. That encouraged him to go on. He told her about life in the longhouses, the community, the women’s lives as heads of the family, trade with the Colonists and his friends. When he finished she smiled. “I would like to go there.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton walked in and out of his cabin all day, shuffling through maps, getting medicine for the villagers or changing sweat drenched clothes. All the while Oney slept and slept and slept. Every time he walked out again he would stop by the door and make sure he could hear her breathing. The night was restless, as Ratonhnhaké:ton checked in on her several times when he could hear her tossing and turning and moaning. Once he shook her awake gently. “Are you pain?” he asked firmly. Pain was something he could ease for her, pain could be dealt with. She nodded, but when he tried to inquire further, she turned her back to him, balled her fists into the sheets and slept on. So he again drew up and chair and watched over her. By dawn she stilled, now breathing calmly and peacefully. Once she woke up and looked at him. “I think I’m getting better, I can’t feel a thing” she smiled weakly, but eagerly. "I think I’ll make it, I’ll start a new life and be well, you’ll see.” Ratonhnhaké:ton returned her smile with a tired one of his own and carefully reached out to shortly squeeze her hand. “I know. You will. But you have to rest for now, you’ve gone through a lot” he said gently. She nodded and fell back into a still sleep. Ratonhnhaké:ton stayed by the bed until her last breath wasn’t followed by another one and she died on the morning of their departure. 

The cabin was now completely quiet and Ratonhnhaké:ton let himself be surrounded and swallowed up by it. Finally he got up and sat beside her. Only now he dared, for the first time, to stroke her hair and her cheeks and murmur all the reassuring words about what her life with his people would have been like. Then he scooped her up and went on deck. It was still early and the shuffling of waking men wouldn’t start for another hour. He quietly left the ship and carried her to the place among the palm trees, where they’d buried her brother three days earlier. 

Ratonhnhaké:ton looked back over the plantation before leaving it for the last time. It wasn’t as quiet as when he’d made his first round through it, the birds had taken up their singing again and the wind created a dry rustling in the palm leaves. This still was a battlefield. But one of a whole different kind, not the ones he’d fought on back home. This had been a quiet battle. What had been done to the people here turned the sweet air of the paradise, which it seemed to display, sour. He wondered if his grandfather had ever come here, when Kingston was still Port Royal and Beckford was only a merchant with a dream. If he could have imagined how history would run its bloody course. Ratonhnhaké:ton turned his back and walked back to the ship, that would sail him safely off those shores. He hoped to never have to step on Jamaica’s blood soaked soil again. 

1717 AD   
Edward stepped onto the docks of Port Royal. Or Kingston rather, as it was called now. It was flourishing again and he loved it. He loved the taverns, the women and the drunkards in the streets. And he loved the ale and the bustling fervor of the trading port. He took in the sight and a wide grin formed on his lips, before walking towards the next tavern; he needed a drink and woman. Not necessarily in that order. 

He didn’t even make it into a tavern, before a pretty red head had taken her chance on him. She was good, really good; Edward rolled off of her and dropped his sweat covered body next to her. Usually he’d dress and leave, but this one he actually liked, she was unusually smart and witty, and he wondered briefly what had gone wrong in her life to end up down here. “I told you I was the one you want” she said with a satisfied smile on her lips. He turned his head to look at her, when she got up and walked over to a table in the corner. Her curves seemed to be begging for his rough touch all over again. “Come back here, lass” he ordered as he propped himself up on an elbow. “Aye, Captain” she replied taking something out of a small pot on the table. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you mocking me?” he challenged. She returned to the bed and lay on her belly next to him, supporting herself on her elbows. 

“Why didn’t you want to go to your ship instead of my place? I’ve never met a men who didn’t want to show me his toys. Makes me think you lied about having one, Captain” she teased. Edward looked up into her eyes that sparkled mischievously. “My ship’s not a toy, it’s my life” he said as he ran his hand down her back and pinched her side so she squealed. “I’ve always wanted to be fucked on a ship, I’d make it dance on the water alright” she mused. Edward laughed. “Well, that can be arranged.” “Does it have a pretty figurehead as well?” she asked, curious. “She, lass, a ship’s a she. And yes, she does. You’d make her blush” he answered, amused. “You’ve never told me your name” he added. She ignored him and held her palm up to offer him what she’d taken from the pot on the table. “What’s that?” “Sugar cubes” she answered, taking one and putting it in her mouth to suck on it. Edward grimaced. “No, thanks. Where’d you get those?” he inquired. “Beckford’s sugar plantation. Some of his trading men like to pay with those” she said smiling. Edward threw his head back laughing. “That guy’s a mad man.” “You know him?” she asked surprised. “I met him once, he talked about starting a plantation all the time. I didn’t believe him, he was on his own. Where’d the lad get enough men to get it started?” he wondered, still grinning. She just looked at him in bewilderment. His grin faded as something dawned on him and his brows furrowed. In his mind he was already confronting Beckford, but that had to wait until tomorrow anyway. He grabbed her waist and pulled her roughly under him, pushing his knee under her belly to make her rise onto her hands and knees while he kissed a trail along her spine. 

 

“What do you mean?” Beckford laughed, slapping Edward’s shoulder. “You know I’m good for my word. They’re getting paid, I’m not mistreating them.” Edward looked at him doubtfully, wiping Beckford’s hand off his shoulder. Beckford was the very first stop he’d made this morning and it was already stiflingly hot. “I’m taking your word for it, Beckford. Don’t ever let me find you with whip in hand” he growled, taking a last look over the estate. Then he turned his back to it and walked back to Port Royal, eyeing the Negros that crossed his path, carrying heavy bundles of sugar canes on their aching backs.


End file.
